There’s a beast loose in my neighborhood. Careful, don’t even look at it in the eye if don’t want to get your head ripped off. I do have a taste for brains… Continue reading “I decided to quit smoking – Day 3 (The raging beast)”
It was around noon, the time I’d usually have a smoke (one of the five or six a day), when, surprisingly, I didn’t think of a cigarette. Instead, it was the same as yesterday, it was the urge of a brownie. My chocolaty, sweet, delicious friend was calling me in a whisper, like the wind blowing through tree branches.
-Make me -he said. Continue reading “I decided to quit smoking – Day 2 (My brownie friend)”
As any good cigarette addict, I’ve tried to quit smoking several times and never lasted more than a few weeks. Now, something has happened that made me get my strength together and do it for real. My grandmother was diagnosed with lung cancer. So, this is day one.
Beware, winds are rising. They grow faster, stronger, even more threatening every day. I’m scared, can’t say I’m not; I’m so scared I can’t even think straight. I must hold on, I must be strong, either do it or die. Sometimes it looks like it’s over, the storm is passing, then I realize it’s only the eye I’m in. Whose the eye?, is it mine or is it the eye of the giant we live in? If I could see beyond the chaos, if could just walk through the mess, then I would be all right. So I’ll hold on, I’ll wait some more, because I know there is no storm, there are no winds pounding on my door, everything is what it want to be and want it to be what it is meant to be.
Whether you like that picture above or not, I want you to know that it took me a very long time to feel that confident about myself. Continue reading “This snake’s new skin”
I’ve wanting to write about this for a long time, it’s time.
Here’s my stance. Maybe you’ve heard that everything is a remix and that we’ll never see anything truly new and original. For decades we’ve been either imitating the great artists of the past, or we’ve been creating simple -not to say dull- songs, paintings, movies, books, buildings, plays, etcetera, with no context whatsoever. I believe that the sole and full purpose of art is to deliver a message, to transmit a feeling or an idea to another human being. If a creation doesn’t fulfill that intention, then it has no soul in it and therefore it’s not art.
All artists wish to create something that will separate them from rest, we all want to be the authors of “the next big thing”. I also wish for something like that, but here is what I’ve come to realize: It doesn’t matter. If you are truly an artist, then you must be a romantic, someone who creates from the very core of your heart, without thinking about what people may like or dislike. Also, as spectators that we all are -artists or not-, as part of an audience, we should care more about what a person is trying to deliver, not only about the execution. Sometimes intricate and complicated creations end completely flat when looked up close; or it can be quite the opposite, sometimes simple things, modest works, can change your life forever.
If you consider yourself an artist, then you should paint, write, build, cook, or whatever it is that you do, from your heart and you should never stop fighting for what you want. There is so much people on earth that trust me, you’ll find an audience, there is a market for all of us. If you are proud of who you are and what you do, then others will soon share your vision.
I also wanted to include my thoughts about critique in this post, but that will take me more than a few lines, so I’ll save it for another post.
What do you think that matters in art?
Here are some things I’ve been having to explain lately, a lot…
I was convinced that I would be successful once I could have a career in photography or in writing. Things weren’t working out as planned, so I created this blog to write about the frustrations and depressions that came every time something failed. You see, I am a depressive person and I’ve struggling with that most of my life. That’s why a couple of years ago I started a healing process, or something like it. Then, something happened that closed that circle.
Last month my grandmother had to go through a pulmonar surgery and I went to my hometown to visit her. It was the first trip I’ve made without my husband in years, and although I was with my family the whole time, I was very aware that I was also alone (emotionally alone if you know what I mean). The house was full of grumpy women (including me) and to endure the hurtful comments, I had to learn to first love myself and then love them, no matter what they said. By doing that, I started to get at peace and everything went smoothly. That feeling followed me home. Now I realize that I’m successful because I finally learned to be happy. I don’t mean the joyful kind of happy, I mean the kind of happiness in which you find inner peace, you become loving, brave and mature.
I am successful because I am happy. I am happy because I love, I love my family and friends but first I love myself. I am happy because I love what I do, I love taking pictures and writing, I love telling stories that make you dream of something different. I am happy because I don’t care what people think of me. I am happy because I learned to control my ego. I am happy because I am not afraid of anything, I know I’ll die someday for sure. I’m happy because I am me and I’m alive.
Although there is no absolute cure for depressive disorders and I’ll probably get blue once in a while, I know that I’ll be feeling a lot better from now on. Maybe I should change the name of the blog to: On the exciting way to success.
Also, I don’t have lots of readers (I suck at marketing), so if you are reading my mumbo jumbo, I want to thank you for taking the tame in doing so. Thank you very, very much.
Here’s my favorite picture of the trip and if you’d like to see the whole album, you can check at my Flickr.